


Holding On To You

by messyfanworks



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Angst with no happy ending, Egobang - Freeform, Feels, and i guess we can put implied, mentioned drug use, oh yeah and dans having a breakdown, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 16:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10494732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messyfanworks/pseuds/messyfanworks
Summary: "Once again, Dan was left by himself, wishing he was wrapped in Arin’s arms and tracing circles in his back, telling him it would be okay. He wanted Arin to run his hands through his hair and fall asleep with him on the couch. Cosy, warm and happy.But that wasn’t what was happening. Instead Dan was alone in his empty bed, wearing the same clothes he’d worn for days now. And he was surrounded by beer bottles and an endless stream of thoughts and feelings."





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! thank you for checking out my work, it is much appreciated! Okay so I named this angst-ridden fic after twenty one pilots song because I was basically to listening to it on loop while writing this. I thought the name fitted quite nicely with the theme!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy and let me know if you liked it!!
> 
> (also, you can send me message on tumblr if ya feel like it. I'm @thatmessyfanaccount and love seeing all of your lovely faces :DD)
> 
> EDIT: Thank you for 100 hits omg!!

Once again, Dan was left by himself, wishing he was wrapped in Arin’s arms and tracing circles in his back, telling him it would be okay. He wanted Arin to run his hands through his hair and fall asleep with him on the couch. Cosy, warm and happy.

But that wasn’t what was happening. Instead Dan was alone in his empty bed, wearing the same clothes he’d worn for days now. And he was surrounded by beer bottles and an endless stream of thoughts and feelings.

He hadn’t stopped thinking for months. The thoughts would come at night, while he was vulnerable and alone, reminding him of all the time he had fucked up. Reminding him that he was, at that very moment, a fuck up. A loser and a fuck up who had way too many things to think about.

Although there was a long list of things that kept him awake at night, at the very top of the list was the one and only Arin Hanson. Who, quite tragically, he was in love with.  
It hurt to think that Arin was probably asleep with Suzy, in love and happy, instead of sharing a bed with him. Dan didn’t want to feel this way; jealous and spiteful, especially towards Suzy. She was lovely and always made sure everyone was happy. If fact, she’s one of the nicest people he’s ever had the honour to meet.

And if she made Arin happy, then surely it should make Dan happy. But no, his awful head would always make a problem for him. Whenever he saw Arin and Suzy smile at each other, eyes filled with nothing but sappy love, it hurt. It made his stomach twist and his face burn hot and red with jealousy. 

He couldn’t hate Suzy, though. Not in a million years. It took him a while to realise that he didn’t hate Suzy, but hated himself. He hated himself for being jealous, clingy, and oh so dependent on Arin. 

Dan had always been dependent on something. First it was his girlfriends. He always needed someone to validate him and make him think he was good enough. He needed to believe he was worth loving. And then it was the drugs. One hit and he didn’t have to deal with reality, making it the perfect addiction. 

Now it was Arin. And alcohol. Neither of which he likes to admit. He couldn’t be a homewrecker, and he couldn’t be an addict. Again.

Okay, so maybe he was an addict. So what? It helped. Drinking means no thinking. Sometimes.

If he was lucky, he’d pass out way before the night approached and the thoughts closed in. But other nights he’d lay by himself in the same jeans, same bed and staring at the same ceiling. 

Everything became an empty abyss if he stared at the ceiling long enough. He would become numb, the drink soaking in, and despite the non-stop love he got every single fucking day, he’d become a fucking mess. Tears would run down his cheeks, and he would talkaloud, yet to no one at all, the ceiling being the only thing that might hear him.

He was lonely. When he woke up, head throbbing from last nights drunken episode, he’d hear the silence, a constant hum of nothing, and remember he had no one. He’d remember there was no Arin to smile at him when he opened his eyes, and no friends to lean on. 

Dan hated remembering things when he woke up. 

It was even worse when he’d had a nice dream and then woken up. When he was sleeping, there was always the chance his brain would treat to him to moments he could only of dream of, literally. Maybe he’d dream up an hour of sunshine and smiles with Debbie, or Christmas shopping in New York with Arin, finished with a midnight kiss under the night sky. Sometimes he’d dream of recording in the studio with his old friend Peter Lennox, or singing his heart out at concerts. 

He couldn’t talk about his problems. The first person he would go to would be Arin, but of course, he was in love with him and so venting to him about this was off the table.

And even if he did go to Arin for help, it would make for an extremely awkward conversation. What would he even say? “Hey Arin, hate to be a burden, but I’m desperately in love with you and instead of dismissing it, I’ve bottled my all my angsty feelings and been drinking them away. Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine, but I think my livers fucked.”

He’d considered talking it out with his vast range of friends, but dismissed each and every one of them as an option. Nobody wanted to deal with his problems; even Dan didn’t want to deal with them. He would hate to see their look of disappointment and sadness while he poured his heart out. Even the thought of their furrowed eye-brows and sympathetic tones was enough to send Dan over the edge. 

Despite all that, who would care? Who would genuinely care? The moment he admitted to his feelings, his love-induced alcohol addiction, people would lose all respect for him, and tear apart any bond of trust he’d managed to stitch together.

Oh well.

No matter how lonely he was, he always had drink and a ceiling to confide in.


End file.
